


Tainted Secrets

by mcgoofys



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Femslash, trigger warning, trigger warning: rape, tw: rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgoofys/pseuds/mcgoofys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane had been a little too late that evening with Maura and Dennis. Three months later, Maura finds herself impotent of dealing with the aftermaths of that night. She gives Jane an ultimatum which results in her disappearance to New York. Nine months later, she's back. The only people truly exultant about it seem to be Angela and Tommy. Now there's a wedge between Jane and Maura, and while Frankie refuses to get tangled in their mess, Angela and Tommy both plot to get Jane and Maura together alone in a room and discuss of that dreadful night and the three month old reminder of Dennis' actions crying on the other side of the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline is a little off. I shifted their age. My goal of this story is to see how far I can take these characters to the edge of their boundaries of character. How far can I bend them before they break without actually breaking them. This story won't be for all readers. I do not recommend unless you are sure you have the capacity to bear with me. It tells a tale of Maura being raped by Dennis, and if you're unsure you can handle that, no one will blame you for not reading.  
> All grammar and punctual errors are my own. Keep in mind I write better at one to three in the morning and am without a beta.

            Jane Rizzoli skinned the fifth label on her fifth bottle of beer that encircled her like boats on a small island. The music that packed the room was reckless and shabby. The bass rattled her bones in her skin as she whacked the flat of her palm down against the discounted timber of the bar once more. Morris looked up at her from down the small sector with a filthy towel on his shoulder and a wineglass in his hands. He was busy with another customer.

            She swallowed hard. “’nother round.” She’d consumed the entire night with drinking, as if the beer held a certain quantity of herb that healed her body of emotional anguish and pain. She imbibed the beer as if it touched every junction of her body, even her bones, and soaked it with a phenomenal drug that took the agony away.

            He bobbed his head, indulgently.

            Jane turned her entire body around on the barstool until she was faced with the rest of the Dirty Robber. It was ominously lit as usual. The stereo that had just been added a month ago was being put to good use and she was proud that Morris had found another way to attract customers. It was a cop bar but it also attracted another crowd, law enforcers, no matter their age. It was palpable a young cop wouldn't feel comfortable in a bar full of almost retired cops. Or a brand new lawyer, with every precise answer to the bar exam fresh in their head, wouldn't feel welcomed by the desk sergeants.

            “Here ya go, Rizzoli.” Morris' voice retold her of her father's and Korsak's. It was dilapidated, like he'd spent every moment of his life using it. And it made sense. He was a bartender. He owned a bar. He possibly spent his entire life listening and talking to people. He doubtless helped more people than a therapist; he just didn't get paid as much. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

            “Not really.” She cleared her throat. What could she say? How could she say it?

            Morris seemed to gawp into her thoughts for a moment. “Just say it.”

            “How...” Jane dawdled off. “Could she?”

            He was noiseless for a moment. Jane had almost worried he'd walked off. She looked over her shoulder. There he stood, gawking at the door of the Dirty Robber. The trundles of his mind were revolving sluggishly. She could hear the groans and corrosion, metal to metal like nails to a chalkboard. It made her shudder. He had no clue. She could sense that.

            “I just know she loved you, Rizzoli.”

            “She coulda told me.” The Detective rolled her eyes, as if that'd hardly been a justification. She was well tired of it by now. She'd heard it from her mother. Frankie, Frost, Korsak. Hell, even Tommy recognized it and yet she'd been left in the damn dark the entire time.

            “Did you really give her a chance, Jane?” Morris was a straightforward man. That was something Jane had always appreciated about him. It was hard to be an honest man around a bar of cops who just finished a long shift of dealing with rape victims, killers, car accidents, assholes, etc. “She all but told you she couldn't do it on her own and that she needed you. What'd you do?”

            She gulped intensely before freeing a choky breath. “I...” Jane gritted her back teeth for a moment as she watched the cars on the street pass. Her eyes were deliberately eluding the booth just to the right of the bar - a booth where she should have been sitting, a booth where Maura should have been sitting. “I didn't know what she was talking about, Morris.”

            “To hell with that,” he turned her to him. “you knew she loved you, Jane. You may not have known she was trying to tell you something but you knew she was in trouble and she loved you and she needed you. You just thought the trouble was being with you.”

            Jane scowled at him. She couldn't elect if she should be crossed or dismissed. A heft on her chest was raised but the mere thought of letting Maura down released the ton of bricks back down onto her chest and she blenched in agony. Breathing was becoming hard again and all lucidity dissipated like sand in the wind. She licked her lips as she straightened for a moment before letting her shoulders slump and swigging the beer in her hands.

            “She still-”

            “She tried.” Morris interjected. He knew her well. Better than her own now preoccupied father. She looked up at him, bottomless, chocolate brown eyes begging him to stop. She needed to vent. She needed to be angry. She needed to be furious. She needed...she wasn't sure what she'd come there imagining but she needed something and Morris wasn't giving it to her. He wasn't helping her the way she'd anticipated. He was adding to the barricade of bricks against her temperament. He was hitting her with the actuality she hadn't prepared to see just yet. It was the light and she needed just a few more moments in the dark. She needed to flounder in shame before coming to the light where she knew that she'd messed up and let Maura down. She needed the black abyss to bleed into without any other association from the light, the reality, the truth.

            “Now she's back.” Morris exhaled. “She's back, rather you like it or not you're going to have to be working with this woman again and you have to decide now if you can handle it. Can you?”

            “I don't...” She trailed off, irresolute of the idea that she could cope with seeing Maura; the warmth on the woman. She wasn't sure if she could manage to stand or sit next to Maura in closed quarters and discourse everything but what really counted to them. What was really going on through their minds; the event that shattered them both and tore them apart for months.

            Jane swallowed hard before downing the miscellanies of beer in her bottle. “God,” she grumbled. “When did shit get so fucked up?”

            Morris chuckled, though it was barren of any humor or enjoyment. It was more wretched than anything. It was deplorable and sympathetic to the Detective with her forehead against the bar another empty bottle of beer in her hands. “I can't tell ya that, Rizzoli. But, what I can tell you is that whenever I do something stupid, it usually takes a thousand sincere apologies and lots of flowers until my wife forgives me.”

            Jane turned on her cheek, the icy feel of the wood cooling the heat in her cheek from the six bottles of beer she has downed within the last two hours. “What are you trying to say?”

            “Maura goes back tomorrow.” He shrugged. “I think you should be looking for some florists who are going to sell flowers to a drunken cop at-” he squinted at his watch. “one in the morning.”

            “If I buy them now, they'll probably be dead in the morning.” She groaned. “Morris, it's no wonder your wife gets mad at you so often.”

            “Hey, at least she knows how I feel.” He refuted back with a leer. “Can you say the same about Maura?”

            “She...she knows.”

            “Does she?”

            “She should.”

            “What if she doesn't?” he pulled the barely white towel from his shoulder and wiped the counter around her to keep his hands busy. Morris was a man of action. He couldn’t sit or stand still for too long. He was a bartender; they usually didn’t allow themselves to sit for too long. If they had the time to, business wasn’t going well. “What if she thinks you only love her like a friend? What if she thinks that the reason you rejected her is because you aren't in love with her? You can't be sure of what she knows, Jane. Considering nine months ago, you told her you didn't want to be in her life anymore after she confessed how she felt about you.”

            Jane was still for a moment. The realism of the situation was like a clutch on her throat and she found it challenging to speak, let alone think. She was fading. “I can't tell her, now. I have no right.”

            “You want her in your life, Jane?”

            She nodded.

            “It's real simple.”

            She looked at him anxiously; her brown eyes wide with hope. Her brow creased, deep lines just above her brows, crinkling her forehead deeper than a stream like leather.

            “Talk to her.”

            She rolled her eyes as her head plummeted back down to the bar.

            “I'd start with an apology.” He threw the towel back over his shoulder.

            “You're a real fuckin' help Morris, thanks.”

            “Any time, Rizzoli.” He grinned. “Cheaper than a therapist, just gotta buy my booze.”

            She sighed.

            “I'll call you a cab. You better get some sleep in before you see Maura. Don't want you having off brand Gucci bags under your eyes. Stop by here in the morning before you hit the precinct, alright?”

            “Why?”

            “Just do it.”

+++++++

 

            Maura Isles wasn't habitually a proud woman. She could confess defeat. She could admit when she required help or when she was wrong. Maura was typically tremendously self-assured in her work and decisions, but not _exaggeratedly_ _buoyant_. But, right now? Watching her dusky home, she was second-guessing her decision to come back to Boston.

            The wind was a whistle outside her car. She could feel it gently swaying the vehicle. It was reasonably cold. She knew that before she even stepped outside the car. Her home was shadowy. No lights were on, signifying that Angela Rizzoli probably wasn't inside. However, she could see the guesthouse's main bedroom was well illuminated.

            Tommy's box on wheels that was barely approved for a vehicle was parked in front of her car. Next to it had been Angela Rizzoli's car. She could deduce in her garage had been her Mercedes. She trusted. She wasn't startled that Jane's cruiser was absent from her driveway. If she knew Jane, the Detective remained as far away from Maura's home as probable. Even when Maura was in New York, Jane stayed away. She didn't know why Jane would, but something told her the brunette just did.

            Maura opened her door, but the wind rocked it open with vigor. She anticipated her presence hadn't gone unobserved when the front door of the guesthouse opened, charitable of a nimble light that crawled from the stoop to Maura’s car. The lanterns around the house shimmered and she pondered when the city was going to have that fixed. She lived in a wealthy neighborhood; all it took was flickering streetlights for the break-ins to begin again.

            “Maura,” Tommy was the first at her side. His facial features were perceptibly unalike now. A beard that’d been prudently rid of every morning before she’d left was not taking up the bottom half of his face. His hair was long and unkempt, wiry just like Jane’s, Maura thought. Before, Tommy looked more like his mother than his father. But with this beard, he looked more like the man that had abandoned their family and it made Maura wonder if Tommy had any ideas of succeeding his father’s footsteps any time soon. She pressed the thought to the nether of her attention because he had a son now. He _wouldn’t_. He _couldn’t._

            “Tommy,” she grinned. She wrapped her arms around him. He was heavier. When she pulled back to give him a proper look, she observed his mother had been nourishing him. She smiled at the thought that Angela hadn't changed. “it's so nice to see you. I see you've gained a few healthy pounds.”

            “Yeah,” his cheeks bleached to a deep crimson, even in the streetlights she could tell. “TJ is a full time job sometimes. I don't have time to work-out as much.”

            “TJ,” she'd heard a lot about him from Angela. She'd been on the phone with her while Lydia had gone into labor. Angela had been frightened that Thomas Junior was either a bastard child or her grandchild, and both thoughts absolutely horrified her. Maura had done her best to calm those worries. “where is he?”

            “With Lydia,” he started to say more but he caught sight of his mother. His zealous mother, a woman that’d waited six months to see Maura again. Angela had lost her daughter when Maura decided to leave. Sure, it was impermanent, but so much could have been resolved in that time. Instead, both of her daughters jumbled around with broken hearts. Jane wasn’t the same. The empty the shell of the woman she’d raised. Maura was dilapidated and tired from what Angela could tell with their late phone calls. He turned to the Prius and began gathering everything for Maura.

            “Maura, honey,” Angela's voice was pacifying. It was threadbare and scruffy, like a mother who'd raised three surpassing children. “it's so good to see you again.” She enveloped her arms around Maura, pulling her in for one those hugs that always knocked the breath out of the Medical Examiner.

            “It's nice to see you as well, Angela.” She paused until the older woman let go before covering her mouth to swallow tears that endangered to overcome her. “Could you?” She looked to the backseat.

            “Of course,” Angela grinned, as if it’d been her first grandchild in the backseat. She opened the door, swiftly not to startle the sleeping infant in the back. “she’s adorable, Maura.” In more ways than one, it _was_ Angela’s first grandchild in the backseat. “Maria Isles,” she cooed into the sleeping infant’s ear.

            “My middle name is Maria,” Angela whispered to Maura.

            “I know.”

            The older woman’s head snapped up, her eyes linked with Maura’s and something allied within her. Something snapped. Some sort of verification and she knew the significance of the name before Maura had even pooled it with her. “She’s…named after me.” It was a statement. It was a fact.

            “She is.” Maura nodded. The beam on her lips lit up her face; it was a smile that usually was only earmarked for Jane. But, Jane was just like her mother. She could bring out a portion of Maura that indefinite to anyone. “You have been so wonderful to me, Angela.”

            “That’s,” Angela felt tears prickling behind her eyes, stabbing at her like barbs. They threatened to fall and she didn’t have enough drive to stop them. It felt worthy to be _that_ appreciated. It felt good to _know_ she was that cherished. “the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, c’mere.” She used her free arm to pull Maura in for another one of those hugs. This was well less constricted, considering there was a delicate newborn between them.

            Maura laughed, tears streaking down on her cheeks. She wiped them. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

            “Things like that are better said in person.” Angela agreed.

            “My mother understands.” She shouldered the pink diaper bag. “Maria Constance Clementine Isles.”

            “Clementine?” the older woman smirked.

            “I’m not prepared to talk about her just yet, Angela.” Maura cautioned, in a disquieting drawback. Angela’s smile fell from her lips and she felt an impulse to pull Maura in again for another hug. The woman was ardently shattered and the object of that agony was going to be at work with her in the morning.

            “I’m sorry,” she rubbed Maura’s back. “if it makes you feel better, she’s just as miserable.”

            Maura gave her a look. One that told Angela, it didn’t. It made her feel worse, if it was possible. The look told her that the notions of Jane being dejected making her feel better was ludicrous. 

            “You’re right,” Angela agreed. “let’s get inside. I’m freezing and I’m sure Maria is too.” She grinned, saying her granddaughter’s name. “Still can’t believe she’s named after me. This is every grandmother’s dream. Nana would be so proud. Oh, Maura you would have loved Nana. She was…” the rest of it was tuned out. Maura meant to pay attention, she did. But, her attention span was short nowadays. Somehow the conversation of Jane had passed between them but that didn’t mean Maura wasn’t still thinking about her.

            She followed Angela into her house, the lights were already on – which was Tommy’s doing – and warmth was encircling her body like a moth to a flame. She drew in a steady breath as she took in the look of her home. It was conversant and yet extraneous at the same time. Everything was still in its place, the furniture was draped with plastic which Maura recognized to be Angela’s doing. She chuckled softly at the thought of her denying letting anyone sit on the couch.

            “I wanted everything to be the way you left it.” Angela said from the open space between the couch and the kitchen, softly swaying Maria in her arms. “I wanted you to know you could trust me.”

            “Of course I trust you, Ang.” The honey-blonde smiled, sweetly at the absurd thought. “That’s why I left the house in your hands. I knew you would take care of it better than anyone I know.”

            The older woman smiled in return, her heart warming. If it was Maura’s goal to make her cry tears of joy tonight, she was ultimately going to be successful.

            “Did you do it?” The Medical Examiner inquired unexpectedly. Her thoughts began wandering to the slumbering infant in Angela’s arms.

            “Sure did.” The older woman nodded once. “I have to admit, you’re a lot braver than me. I couldn’t stand having Tommy in our room. Jane and Frankie were fine but Tommy fussed a lot, especially when there was any subtle movement in the room. It got so bad that Frank Sr. had to sleep in a wooden chair next to Tommy’s crib.”

            Maura smiled at the thought of an infant Tommy.

            “It wasn’t all bad.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Our marriage,” Angela supplied. “it wasn’t all bad. That’s why I was so surprised he wanted a divorce-” She frowned. “-annulment.” She corrected.

            “I’m sure he loved you.”

            “He did.” She agreed. “I was in my early twenties; he’d been working for Sylvester’s Plumbing. We met at the diner that I waitressed at. He insisted I let him take me on a date to a drive-in movie. When I turned him down, he came back every night after his shift.” She could see where Jane which parent she inherited her persistency from. “Finally, I said yes and we had fun. It was a great movie but I wasn’t in love. My girlfriends told me he was perfect. Charming.” Another thing Jane had inherited from her father, Maura thought. “But, I just didn’t feel the spark. My parents loved him. He wasn’t successful but he was a hardworking, Italian man, so he had their blessing. We dated for a while before he asked me to marry him. By then, I’d loved him. But, I don’t think we were in love. I think we just appreciated each other.”

            “Don’t just _appreciate_ someone, Maura.” Angela looked at the honey-blonde. Her voice was austere, leaving no room for protests but yet recommending. “You love my Janie?”

            “Yes.” She swallowed.

            “And you think she’s the love of your life?”

            “Yes.” She nodded.

            “I can’t promise Janie will ever come around but I can tell you, don’t just settle. You’re not going to raise Maria alone. I’m here. Frankie’s here. Tommy’s here. We’re all here for you. You of all people know better than to depend on one person.” It was like a slap to her individuality, but Maura knew it wasn’t proposed to be. “Just don’t settle for someone because you think you’ll need them. Don’t settle for being miserably married for the rest of your life when you can just be comfortable and alone.”

            Maura said nothing. She was thunderstruck and speechless, utmost of all she was struggling with the desire to break down. Angela was veracious. About everything. But, she _wanted_ Jane. She wanted a _life_ with _Jane_. She’d always wanted a life with Jane. It took Dennis almost killing her for her to recognize that the reason she’d hurried into things with him, the reason she accepted Ian’s unpredicted stopovers, the reason she’d allowed herself to date men who meant nonentity to her was because she’d been incomplete. She was a fragmentary Picasso painting. She was a piecemeal, waiting to be drawn together by the one person who knew better than anyone else. _Jane_. 


	2. Lost But Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the characters nor do I make any profit from them. Any grammatical or punctual mistakes are my own.

The cup in Jane’s damaged hands scorched her scar tissue, she was convinced she could feel the warmth soaking past the layers of skin, muscle and nerves and almost boiling her bones. She looked outside the office window, her eyes met with a cold, pouring Boston. The sky was murky and dull, churns of the dark grey substance gathered just above the building across from BPD. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if suddenly a parachute of immoral robots would fall from the center of the swirl. After five minutes of rubbernecking the sky and the city of Boston gone left unharmed, at least as unharmed as it’d been before her suspicions, she turned her attention back to the dark cup of Joe in her hands. It was freshly brewed when she’d come in. She’d overlooked it on her desk, and instead of going downstairs to reclaim a new cup, she’d decided to just rewarm the abandoned one on her desk. She considering herself saving cups and coffee, but really she’d just dreaded running into Maura.

            The flowers she’d purchased, the snowy hyacinths, were on her desk. She’d asked for a small vase, knowing that her reunion with Maura may not be in an opportune place.

            Jane sighed worryingly. She turned her attention back to her the leaden sky. She noticed the dark depth was as shadowy as Maura’s hazel eyes the day she’d broken the other woman’s heart. Rain fell, prompting her of the boundless tears that trickled from Maura’s chin. The way her shirt had been discolored with tears, the same way the streets of Boston were now stained with rain.

            “Working hard or hardly working?” Frost was aloof and his presence was far off in the back of her mind. She hardly paid any attention to her partner nowadays. She was appreciative that he was easily tacit and didn’t push too often about it. Today seemed to be one of those days he’d forgotten that she wasn’t the same as before. For the better part of two weeks, Frost had been enthusiastic about Maura’s homecoming. Although Jane knew for a fact that he kept in touch with her, along with almost everyone else in her life, Frost was ecstatic that Maura was coming back to Boston. It wasn’t just her return to work that had him so exultant; it was her return to the city. That she was now going to be in a closer proximity.

            “Earth to Jane,” he tossed a pen her way. She wasn’t sure if his aim was on point of piss poor because he’d missed her face but it hit her shoulder.

            “Yeah,” her voice was full of submitting misery. She’d given in to the pain and it was palpable.

            “Nevermind.” He lowered his head.

            She supped the coffee, it seared her tongue but she continued to swallow it against her better decree. “You get anything from that witness on the Darden case?”

            Frost typed his password into his computer as the machine teemed to life. “Uh,” he scratched the scruff on his cheek as he rested back into his chair. “I couldn’t get ahold of her. Her boyfriend said she’s going to be working a double for a few hours and the crew usually turns their phones off before heading in.” He lowered.

            Jane only nodded vaguely. She stirred her coffee, although it was black with little sugar that was more than igneous by now. “What about the vic’s brother?”

            “He’s on a flight to the Japan according to his secretary.” He delivered.

            “He’s on a flight out of the country the day after his brother is killed?” her eyes shot up.

            He looked at her.

            She looked at him with a brow quirked. It was obvious and she was almost concerned that he didn’t see it. But then she saw a light flicker behind his eyes and realization crossing his dark features, ending at his new beard. _There ya go big boy._

            “I can see how that would be alarming.”

            “Call the airport; see if that flight has landed. If not, he’s still in our jurisdiction.”

            “What am I supposed to tell them?”

            She shrugged. “Tell them that their air marshals need to deliver him back to Boston as soon as possible because he just became the prime suspect in a murder investigation.” 

            He had his office phone in his hand, typing the number already. “Sure thing.”

            She rolled her eyes as she stood from her desk. The cup of coffee went with her as she trekked over to Korsak’s desk. On it had been a file of the sergeant’s lone case. She’d been inquisitive about it when it’d been allotted to him. He hadn’t even mentioned it to her or Frost. Her forefinger touched the manila folder, accentuating the words for her to read.

            _Emily Kotco._

            She narrowed her eyes at the lettering.

            “Don’t even think about it, Rizzoli.” Korsak presaged.

            She extracted her finger quickly. “I was just…I was…”

            “Seen the Doc yet?” He asked, changing the subject. It made her even more interested but now she didn’t even have the resolve to worry about that. Maura was again back on her mind, cripplingly. “She looks great.”

            “Ran into her downstairs with Mrs. Rizzoli,” Frost’s phone connected with the base before he stood and leveled his holster on his waist. “Plane hasn’t landed yet. The air marshals will Deliver Floyd back to us.”

            Jane only nodded.

            “Doc looks smokin’,” the dark man added to Korsak. “Her boobs,” he gestured. “so…”

            Korsak cleared his throat and motioned to Jane with the nod of his head. “Uh, uh, BBK maybe-,”

            “-no, it’s fine.” She untightened her jaw. “Maura’s been gone for almost a year. I’m over it.”

            “Really?” Frost dared, incredulous.

            “Really.” She brought her coffee to lips in hopes she could use the cup as a veneer.

            “Is that why you still fade in and out on us?” Korsak probed.

            “Or why you absolutely refuse to go to visit your Ma at her house or go to Sunday night dinner?” Frost furthered.

            “Okay, things didn’t end so greatly but that doesn’t mean I’m still, you know, _whatever_.” She finished lamely.

            “Well, you better fix what you broke, Rizzoli.” Korsak sat on the edge of his desk. “The only reason Cavanaugh has been forgiving about your mood swings and shitty work lately is because of your unbelievable success rate.”

            “Yeah, it was pretty obvious you and Maura had something going on. So, we’ve all been cutting you some slack but now that she’s back, Cavanaugh expects things to go back to before.”

            “Well,” she quipped. Her tongue clucked against her teeth. “I don’t think things will ever go back to before.” She turned on her heel.

            “Jane, where you goin?” Frost called after her.

            “To have a word with our dear friend Cavanaugh.” She pressed the down button on the elevator vehemently.

  **+++++++**  


            The café was hardly crowded. But then again, Jane couldn’t really remember a time that it had been. Sure, the line for coffee had been long, but she scrupulously couldn’t recall a moment when all the seats in the café had been filled.

            Sean Cavanaugh had been where she’d anticipated him to be: right next to her mother, philandering up a storm. She forced back a shudder as she passed the threshold.

            “Janie,” Angela was surprised but not taken aback. The smile on her face remained, rather vacillating as Jane expected it would have. She was happy, exceedingly happy and Jane couldn’t figure out why.

            “Hey Ma,” she greeted, not doing much to hide her own confusion. She noticed something in Cavanaugh’s hands but he’d handed whatever it was back to Angela. _Okay, I won’t read too much into that._ “Can I talk to you?” She directed the question to her lieutenant.

            “Sure, Rizzoli.” He beamed.

            Jane gestured to a table that put some distance between them and the three other customers in there. “Dr. Isles is back.” She stated as she settled into her seat.

            “I know,” he nodded.

            “We both went through a very traumatic thing with Dennis Rockman.”

            “Yeah, I know.” He frowned.

            “We haven’t resolved our issues yet, and I’m not sure she wants anything to do with me.” She wasn’t prepared to explain why, she just hoped he assumed it had something to do with that case and chalked it up to that. She hoped he wouldn’t dig like the Detective inside of him would have. She saw a flash of curiosity cross his face. He retracted it and put it what Jane assumed was another compartment in his mind.

            “I may not be a beat cop or a Detective anymore,” Cavanaugh began. “I may just be behind my desk making calls all day now, but I have ears, Rizzoli. I know what goes on in my unit. Hell, I think everyone knows what’s going on in my unit, now. See, I always say keep your personal life and professional life separate. Your business is _your_ business. Somehow, you’ve managed to mix the two.”

            She winced.

            “I don’t know what happened exactly. All I know is that after _that_ night, you both changed for the worse. Then one day, she’s telling me she needs to take a maternity leave. Which I can only assume has something to do with that night. Then she’s gone and you walk in the next day more miserable than I’ve ever seen. More beat than I’d ever seen one of my cops.”

            Jane swallowed hard.

            “But,” he rubbed his balding head. “you’ve done a fine job, Rizzoli. Despite your recent behavior, you’ve been the best cop I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. Say the word and it’s done. I’ll take you off Maura’s service. I’ll make sure Operations doesn’t call you when she’s the leading M.E. on a case. Say the word.”

            She licked her suddenly dry lips. “The thing is, Lieu, I don’t want to be taken away from her cases.” She straightened up. “I…I need to talk to her. I need her to forgive me. And the only way she’ll talk to me is if she’s forced to. So…if you can make it happen, I want to be specifically assigned to _her_ cases.”

            She saw his misunderstanding before it vanished behind a shrewd smile. “Morris got to you, didn’t he?”

            She smiled, contritely.

            “That son of a bitch.” He shook his head. Jane knew Cavanaugh and Morris went way back to when they fought together in the military. They always spoke of a war but never mentioned which one. “He’s a clever s.o.b.”

            “Yes sir,” she agreed. “He is.”

            “Are you sure about this, Rizzoli?”

            She nodded. “I’m sure.”

            “And it won’t affect your work?”

            “No, sir.”

            “I’ll make it happen.” He smiled.

            “Thanks, sir.” Her smile in return was weak, but he could see that it had some life to it. It was still adhering on to hope and that gave him hope in his Detective.

            “There’s something I think you should see.” He touched her arm, leading them back to Angela. “Show her.”

            Angela quirked her left brow at him. “Is-“

            “She’s ready.” He smiled. “In fact, I think it’s one of the only things that will cheer her up.”

            “Sean, I don’t think this-,” _did she just call him Sean?_

            “I promise, Angie.” He touched her shoulder demonstratively. Jane recognized that touch. She used to touch Maura that way. She didn’t even want to begin to think about her boss and her mother falling in love. She shook at the thought.

 _Hello I’m still standing here._ “Um, how about I decide that for myself.” She stated, waving her hand. “I mean how bad can it be?”

            Angela studied her daughter for a moment. If she could even still consider the woman standing here her daughter anymore. Jane had changed, significantly. There were times she’d worried that this new Jane would walk into a line of fire just to end it all. She’d worried her baby wouldn’t make it home to her. She’d worried. More than she had before.

            She reached for the photos in her apron, careful to only grab the edges. She and Maura were big on finger smudges.

            “What’s that?”

            “Just look.” She commended, pushing the photos across the counter. Jane didn’t pick them up. Instead, her eyes bonded to the first photo of Maura in the hospital minutes after Maria had been born. The newborn had been in the Medical Examiner’s arms, struggling to clasp on to her nipple. A smile Jane hadn’t seen since before Dennis graced Maura’s lips. She was blissful. Her hair was indolently pulled back into a ponytail. Sweat gleamed on her forehead and chest. A weight elevated from Jane’s chest. Her shoulders were easier to move again. It was easier to take in a deep breath and yet somehow there was a new pain there. It was sharp inside her chest poking at her ribs. She could see the past misery in Maura’s eyes. She could see the pain in her eyes. She’d put that there.

            “How old is she?” The Detective’s voice was small and cumbersome, as if Dennis’ foot had her pinned to the ground again. She swallowed, feeling the same pain she’d felt in her throat that night.

            “Three months.” Angela answered pompously. “Maria Constance Clementine Isles.” She mentioned.

            “Clementine?” Jane glanced from the photo in her unsteady hands. “She named her after me?”

            Angela nodded, unable to give any more information about that. Maura really hadn’t told her much about it and she hadn’t meddled.

            “She named her in honor of me.” Angela said, watching as Jane’s fingers traced the outline of Maura’s face in the photo. The Detective didn’t say anything, instead her eyes stayed glued to the photo. “Janie?”

            “I think we lost her.” Cavanaugh bit back a smile. He pushed a chair behind Jane’s knees and guided her to sit.

            “Last night I caught Maura half asleep breast feeding and staring at a photo of her and Jane.” She shook her head, disappointingly. “This is just getting pathetic. Why can’t they just talk?”

            “A lot happened between them, Ang.” Cavanaugh shrugged. “Don’t worry, though. Rizzoli has a plan. She’s always been a woman of action.”

            “Except for when Maura left.”

            “Well, she’s going to make up for that.”

            “I can only hope so.” She watched the walls Jane had spent the last year building slowly crumble at the look of Maura and Maria Isles. “I don’t think I can handle seeing either of them like this anymore.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	3. Speak For The Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! As a treat from me here's the third installment of this story. All punctual and grammatical mistakes are my own. I'm unfortunately not making any money from the story.

            Maura gaped at the nadirs of the chest cavity in front of her. She’d started her Y Incision twenty minutes ago, yet her arms were postponed just above the body as she stared peculiarly at it. Nothing of the woman’s death was cagy, yet _something_ seemed off. She could divulge it may have just been _her_. The first day back to work and all morning she hadn’t received a single word from Jane. If she hadn’t known better, she would have expected Jane was expressly shirking her. But, Maura _did_ know better. She knew better than to have expectations or presumptions of others.

            She sighed mournfully. She would see Jane in due course. She was the Chief Medical Examiner and Jane was the best Homicide Detective in Boston, in spite of everything. Their paths would cross, and Maura had the inkling sense it would be in less than twenty-four hours. Like Jane had always reminded her; crime never takes a break.

            Yet, it’d disappointed her. She’d been back to work for four hours so far and not once had she bumped into Jane. She’d come to work with Angela, after optimistically accepting the woman’s carpool to work. She’d wanted to spend more time with her, seeing last night she and Maria been fatigued from their flight. They’d retired to bed early. At some point, Maura had woken up and stayed awake for a few hours. Her anxieties were getting the best of her and managed to keep her awake for a total of three hours, just for her to wake up two hours later for work. She’d wanted to talk more with Angela. She’d wanted to tell her about her labor. She’d wanted to hear about everything that had happened in her absenteeism.

            Maura had run into everyone. Korsak; he’d been eating an outsized insalubrious breakfast of intensely sautéed sausages and hash browns from a fast food restaurant he’d stopped at on his way from a lead in his case. Maura had tsked her tongue at him and threw the platter away. She’d asked, kindheartedly of course, for Angela to make him an apposite breakfast. Korsak nitpicked at first, of course, but as soon as he sniffed the enchanting tang of Angela’s thyme and creole egg omelet, he was practically licking his paws. He eluded the matter of Jane, which Maura was gratifying for and yet chary, concurrently.  

Frost; he’d been downstairs ordering a coffee for a woman he had interest in now. She’d run into him when she’d come into the building. They’d caught up. He hugged her unremittingly. The pre-Jane Maura wouldn’t have been too ardent on that but post-Jane Maura was unequivocally perplexed and taken aback. Surely, she’d thought he would have kept a distance. Frost habitually avoided conflict. Contact with Maura was bound to cause conflict.

She’d even managed to run into Detective Crowe. He’d made anecdotes on Jane’s wellbeing without her. “Glad to have the Queen of the Dead back to speak for the dead,” he’d leered. In his own way, it was his elusive way of saying “I’m glad your back.” But, Crowe was a proud man.

She hadn’t seen Frankie. However, she had spoken to him over the phone. He’d promised to have lunch with her.

Maura sighed, blearily. She knew that things wouldn’t have gone back to the way were so easily. She even knew they that things would never go back to the way they were before. Things were different. She was different. No one aside from her and Jane had changed. They were falling into the same black hole, at dissimilar swiftness. Unruffled, they’d started, and yet by hook or by crook Maura’s pace had accelerated once she’d realized she was pregnant. She was determined to scuttle her way from the bottom, and she was sure she’d reached the bottom. The night of Maria’s birth had assured her of that.

However, as much as she’d wanted to see Jane, there was a large portion of her that knew better. A part of her was still perceptively incensed at Jane. There was a very enormous _abhorrence_ inside of her for Jane Rizzoli. 

“You’re going to give yourself a complex.” Frankie said from the door, a grin casing the entire lower half of his face. Creases around his eyes told her that he’d been smiling a lot, latterly. She wondered why, but pressed the thought to the back of her mind, quickly.

“I already have a complex,” she shrugged, withdrawing her arms and setting her scalpel down.  “What are you doing here?”

“We made plans for lunch.” He frowned. “Remember?”

She thought for a moment. Of course she’d remembered, but didn’t she have at least an hour before he would be coming by with their lunch? Maura glanced to the clock on the wall, sure enough it grassed her. She frowned down at the poor woman on her slab. “I suppose I lost track of time.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Frankie smiled again; his sudden mood changes should have given him whiplash. “Should I come back later?”

“No, no.” She dragged off the latex gloves with a snap. “I’m hungry, you’re here, and it’s lunch.”

“I got Ma to make your favorite.”

“My favorite?” Surely Angela couldn’t whip up a four hour meal within two hours?

“Okay, well not your ultimate favorite but I got what Janie always has her making for you.”

Maura nodded. “Ah,” she licked her lips. “Shall we go to my office?” She offered as she finished drying her hands. Frankie motioned for her to lead the way.

Maura sat down on the ruddy couch she’d left a year ago to sit and wilt away. She’d been pleased that of all the things Dr. Pike had rid of in her office, this hadn’t been one of them. “How are you, Frankie?” She asked as she patted the seat next to her. He sat with eagerness, plopping down imprudently. He all but shoved her plate into her lap. Maura smiled irresolutely as she simply placed it on the coffee table in front of them.

“Well, I’m close to being ranked to Detective.”

“Congratulations,” her smile grew to something candid. “I knew you had the talents within you.”

“I can’t help but feel like something of a failure still, you know?” He moved the food on his plate around. Maura only looked at him curiously, with an indication of concern. “Well, Jane was promoted to Homicide at age thirty. She became a cop at twenty-one. She became a Detective at twenty-four. I’m twenty-nine and I still haven’t been gotten any further than foot beat.”

Maura looked at him for a moment, unsure of how to rejoin. Jane was still a sore subject for her and she wondered if his witlessness was with intent. But, he was like a brother to her and needed her. So, her private woes were going to take a back stand.

“Well,” she inaugurated, the end of the word exploding like a balloon. “Being a cop was Jane’s determination since the beginning of high school. She’d always had a particular interest in it. You had another career in mind. Bear in mind, you also began late. You wanted to be a professional baseball performer.”

He chuckled. “Player.” He rectified, which only reminded Maura of Jane. She smiled, feeling a breeze of cordiality travel through her due to the familiarity. 

“Right,” Maura nodded. “Player.”

“But, I guess you’re right.” Frankie shrugged. “I did want to do something else with my life. This wasn’t my first passion so of course I’m not going to be first best at it.”

“Exactly.” She established.

Frankie shoved a fork full of the ravioli he’d beseeched his mother to make for him. It was true, he preferred being treated like a grown man but there were times he knew that loved that his mother still treated him like he was five.

“Might I ask what gave you the consideration of law enforcement?” She asked, glancing to her own integral plate. The plastic wrapping was still covering the food, keeping it fresh. “You could have become a coach. You would have been fantastic. Not that you’re not fantastic at being a cop, I’m just curious.”

He chewed on his food, his eyes travelling heavenward for a moment. It took him a matter of seconds before he was violently swallowing his bite. “I guess,” he dabbed the corners of his lips. Something his mother had transpired into him because she’d learned it from Maura. Oh how much Maura had obstructed all of their lives without awareness, Frankie thought.

“I had nothing. I mean I had an associate’s degree in general studies. Ma wanted me to help Pop with the business, but Pop knew I wouldn’t be happy. Hell, I knew I couldn’t be happy with just being a plumber. I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but I knew I was destined for greatness. I had it in me. We all have. Janie, Tommy, and I. But-,”

“You knew that a mediocre plumbing job wouldn’t be enough.” She interposed.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “And I figured, wow Janie had almost nothing. She didn’t even go to college. All she had was a high school diploma that she barely achieved. Not cause she’s stupid, cause Jane’s…” he trailed off unsure how to describe his sister. Every compliment he’d ever paid to Jane ended with a smack to the head by her. Jane wasn’t keen on compliments, and that was something that had always confused him. So, he lost all ability to compliment his sister at all.

“One of the smartest women in Boston.” Maura supplied straightforwardly, before she could even think to sojourn herself.

“Yeah, basically.” He gave her a look of thanks. “So here, I have a fu-messed up knee. And I’m thinking my sister went from nothing to being one of the best cops in Boston. And being a cop was always interesting to me. I didn’t love it at first. I just knew that I would get to run a lot. But, by the end of my first year I was in love with it. I think baseball was my first love but I found a helluva supplicant to fill that role.”

“I saved this little girl’s life my first year. We were having a cross fire with some wannabe gang, and she walked into the line of fire. She didn’t even know what she was doing. I took a bullet to get her out of the way and I never once in my life was so happy to feel pain for someone else. I would do it again. I’d ruin my knee again and lose my dreams just if it meant I could save that little girl again. I fell in love with that feeling.”

“You’re a wonderful cop, Frankie.” She touched his knee. “You’ll be an even better Detective.”

He grinned at her, a little discomfited by his concession. Maura only turned to her platter.

 

**++++++**

 

Once Frankie had left, Maura figured closed her office behind him. Something he’d said had her mind thick.

“That food was good. If I didn’t know better, sometimes I’d think Ma was trying to kill me with kindness.” He’d said as she assembled their plates. At the moment she’d snorted, but now she thought about it. Not about Angela killing him. But the woman on her autopsy table. Her death hadn’t seemed suspicious at first because it’d been a simple heart attack. Well, that was what Dr. Pike had claimed.

Maura rushed back to the pending victim. It was something Jane had taught her. She didn’t have to rule the death as suspicious and start an investigation, but she could at least _check_. So, she looked at the victim’s heart. It was as healthy as a horse’s.

 

Maura released her results onto Korsak’s desk. He looked from his computer to the folder. Maura wore an eloquent smirk.

“Dr. Pike is an imbecile,” she educated as if he or anyone else in Homicide wasn’t aware of that already. “This woman’s death was in fact not a heart attack. She was murdered.”

“Are you sure?” Korsak opened the file.

“I’m positive.” She nodded. “I read the case report. Fiancé found her in their dining room while she was eating dinner he had prepared for her, right? I found high levels of trace amounts of CN-, and I can bet that if you checked his clothing and the utensils he used-,”

“We’d find the same damn thing.”

“Precisely.” Maura grinned, pompously. This was why she’d come to Korsak.

“Shit, Dr. Isles, I think you just stopped a murderer from walking free.”

“Yeah well,” she shrugged, as if she weren’t gratified. “It’s my job.”

“I have to call the D.A. and a judge for a warrant. Can you gather any more evidence?”

“I think there may be more forensic evidence but you’ll need more.”

“Yeah, I know.” He frowned, thwarted. It was substantial right now and if Maura couldn’t find anything else forensically, he would need more. “Rizzoli!” He snapped his fingers.

Maura froze. She didn’t dare turn around. Her heart hammered in her chest and she could swear the room began to sway, yet she stood impeccably still. She waited, calculating silently in her head, for Jane to say something. She tried in the matter of seconds to prepare herself for Jane’s voice. Something she wasn’t near ready to hear, let alone see her face.

“Can you go find your sister and Frost, tell them I need them up here as soon as possible?” Korsak continued.

Maura’s head snapped around, so quickly it was like a blow to her head, and she came to face a muddled Frankie Rizzoli. She breathed, feeling the weight of a ton lift from her lungs. She could breathe again. She could see again. She could feel again. It was only Frankie.

“Sure,” Frankie said to Korsak. “You okay?” his eyes moved to Maura.

She swallowed, having a hard time finding her own voice. It was somewhere inside her, scrambling to come out. “I-I’m fine.” She squeaked. She nodded pugnaciously to prove her point.

He considered her for a moment.

“Now Frankie!” Korsak prompted, his voice prosperous over any possible thoughts Frankie could be having.

He shambled off with a pace that had him out of the bullpen and into the elevator in seconds. Maura sighed with reprieve.

“I should-,” she pointed to the elevator. “I should go work on the case.” She turned before he could stop her, but she hadn’t turned fast enough. Regrettably, she hadn’t been as fast as Frankie.

“Wait-,” Korsak stood. “I’ll need you to brief Jane and Frost.”

Her throat straitened almost instantaneously and she closed her eyes to steady the medleys of breaths she had left in her body.

“I mean, you did break the case. If it hadn’t been for you, we probably wouldn’t have ever known.”

“Dr. Pike is the lead Medical Examiner on this case.” She refuted. “I could pass all of the information onto him. I could…I could make sure he does job _right_ this time around.”

“Dr. Pike is a doofus and we all know that.” Korsak’s voice was full of solemn, which almost made Maura laugh. “You’re the Chief Medical Examiner for a reason. You’re speaking for a woman who would have been buried and her family and friends would have never known that her killer was sitting amongst them. Come on, Doc. Don’t let what happened between you and Jane stop you from speaking for the dead.”

There it was. There, he’d had her and he knew it. She sighed, regretfully. “Okay.” She swallowed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your resolutions if you have any? My first and foremost is to make more friends. Or at least to trust the ones I already have.


	4. Midnight Mistakes

Ten months before.

The streetlights shaded her skin beige as she entered under each lamp every fifteen seconds. Her skin was glib with perspiration from her nightly run. Her heart pumped and her head throbbed. Her lips were arid. Her legs singed like acid on her muscles. Her side felt like it was twisted and shrewd. She couldn’t stop, even if she wanted to.

            The night was like any other. Dark. Loud, and yet silent all at once. The artificial sounds of Boston were drowned by Bruce Springsteen on her iPod. An iPod she’d received on Christmas from the very person she was running to…or from. She couldn’t exactly decide yet. She just knew she’d departed her from apartment at ten and her destination had been undecided. _Run four miles_ , she’d told herself. Yet, she was now on Maura’s street. Maura’s car was in her sight of view under another yellowish streetlight.

            The iPod, classic at that, had been a gift that came with artists like Beethoven and Bach. Maura had wanted to spice up Jane’s genre selection. Of course, it wasn’t until she discovered those guys made for some excellent running spur that she actually listened to them. On the back of the grey device had been an imprinting just for Jane.

            _From your LLBFF, with love._

            An inside joke that still made Jane laugh, and yet the passage meant more to her than it should have. Every time the device was in the palm of her hands, she ran her fingers over it. Her best friend. Her lifelong best friend forever. Something about that made what she felt for Maura more vanilla than it actually was. The present was now three years and eight thousand songs old.

            Jane crossed the street to Maura’s house. The guesthouse was either just dark or dark and vacant. Her Ma had been staying with Frankie lately, and she couldn’t get herself to ask why. Other things had seemed more imperative, but she’d made a note to ask in the end. Hopefully before whatever the situation was escalated.

            Jane heaved tiredly as she sluggishly knocked on Maura’s door. She wasn’t sure why she was there. She wasn’t sure what she expected herself to say. She hoped their relationship was still intact enough for her to just show up spontaneously.

            After _that_ terrible night, Jane had been there for Maura as best as possible. Until her own therapist implied that she inadvertently impugned the entire situation upon herself. The mass of that notion was enough to keep her as far away from Maura as possible. They no longer ran together. They no longer went to dinner together. They no longer existed outside of work together. Sure, at work, she talked to Maura. She had to. But her sentences were usually short and rudimentary.

            She raised her arm to knock again when the door was opened undecidedly. “Jane?” Maura’s voice was just above a loud whisper. “What are you doing here?” She was genuinely confused.

            Jane relaxed. She hadn’t been fretful. She knew Maura was okay physically. Ever since _that_ night, and many other happenstances BPD seemed hell bent on putting Maura through, Jane had sent an covert patrolman on her street. He was to call her if anything mistrustful were to arise. Jane hadn’t received a call since he’d started his detail.

            Though, it wasn’t just seeing that Maura was physically fine that caused her entire body to relax. It was that it was, she glanced at her watch, now midnight and Maura looked perfect. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail that Jane had only ever seen at night. Her face lacked make-up but Maura’s lips were still full and her eyes were still that shade of green that reminded Jane of the angry Atlantic Ocean the time she decided to take her Ma on a cruise for Mother’s Day. Maura wore a robe that deliberately matched her nightgown and slippers that somehow hadn’t been worn in despite the fact that Maura had a bad habit of dragging her feet when she was tired.

            “I, uh,” she looked at her watch again. Maura rubbed her eyes tiredly. She used her other hand to cover a yawn she couldn’t stifle. Her left hand fell back to her hip as she waited long-sufferingly for an answer. “I, can I come in?”

            Maura didn’t say anything. She just moved back into the quiet and dark home. Jane sighed with reprieve when Maura closed the door behind her. Their distance had strained their relationship very obviously, but she was glad that Maura had a soft spot for her. “I know it’s late.” She said as she turned back to the honey-blonde.

            “It is.” She agreed with a tired look. “Are you okay? You’re sweating.”

            “I just finished running.” She shrugged. “I feel like sh-crap but apparently running is good for you so…”

            “I thought so.” Maura gestured to Jane’s baggy sweats and shirt. “I didn’t want to assume because you do seem fond of wearing that on a daily basis. I couldn’t be sure.”

            Jane let out an overwrought laugh. “Yeah,”

            Maura only smiled. It was feeble. Worn-out. Bushed. Jane suddenly felt embarrassed for showing up. Maura could have been asleep. She could have been busy finishing work. She looked exhausted and miserable and Jane wanted to punch herself. “I wasn’t sleeping,” she informed gently. Maura could see the look of guilt on Jane’s face like a neon sign with an arrow pointing right at her. “I still can’t sleep.”

            “You look exhausted.”

            “I am.” She walked around Jane to go to into the kitchen. She began opening various cupboards and Jane felt like a guest in Maura’s home for the first time.

            “Isn’t warm milk supposed to help with that?” She tried to smirk but it was probably creepy so her face fell and she leaned against the island.

            “I don’t like to be dependent on sleeping aids,” Maura said as if Jane should have known that.

            She should have. She did. Somehow, the woman standing before her was a shell. Maura didn’t exist anymore, especially now that Jane hadn’t been around as much. Dr. Isles did, though.

            “How are you?” She asked, quietly. She knew the answer. She could see it. The way Maura couldn’t stop herself from yawning. The way she’d just given up on trying to hide it. The way her eyes were bloodshot and it wasn’t distressing her body that she was going without sleep. The way Maura didn’t seem to be bothered by her lack of sleep, but actually welcomed it. Jane could tell she still had nightmares and her body’s remedy for that was just not to sleep at all. Jane could see it at work when Maura downed more coffee than she’d ever seen anyone intake. She could see it when Maura got so lightheaded that she usually sat down when she normally would stand. Jane noticed. She’d noticed it all, and so she knew. But still, she had to ask.

            “I’m fine.”

            “I thought you couldn’t lie?” It was supposed to sound like regular Jane. Teasingly. Yet, it was laced with concern and she didn’t try to mask her worry. Had Maura ascended so far that she no longer got hives from lying now?

            “You weren’t specific. So I gave you a vague answer.” She shrugged.

            “How are you, emotionally?”

            “I would prefer not to discuss of that. I’m still trying to understand why you’re here.” Her words weren’t exacting. There was a authenticity to them that hurt Jane, though. Maura had never questioned her visits before. She’d just learned to accept them. Still, only on rare occasions did Jane show up at midnight.

            “ _I_ don’t even know why I’m here.” Truthfully, when she started her run she wanted to run to a place she could think clearly. A place she could be herself. A place she didn’t feel alone. She assumed she’d go to Frankie or Frost. Maybe even Korsak. Hell, when she found herself on Maura’s street she was surprised but thought maybe she was going to her mom.

            There was muteness. Maura poured herself a glass of water. She’d offered Jane a water bottle but the brunette declined politely.

            The silence ran on like Jane’s leaking faucet in her apartment. It was the quietest thing in the house and yet the loudest. It annoyed her to no end and she wanted to grab Maura and scream at her to talk to her. But, she had no right to ask Maura to. She’d severed their ties. She’d started the distance. Maura sought her out at first. Maura had tried to fix whatever she’d done wrong. Still, Jane was stubborn just like her father.

            “I…should go.” She finally pushed herself off the island.

            Maura only nodded.

            Jane turned to leave but something pulled her back. First she thought it was just her body refusing to leave Maura’s presence, but when she glanced over her shoulder to see that it was actually Maura grabbing her shirt she turned fully to face the woman again.

            “Just,” Maura’s voice was lenient. Softer than it had been before. Softer than it had been when she’d asked Jane to tell her to fix them. As if it was Maura who’d done the breaking. “Tell me what I did.”

            Usually her social anxiety and cluelessness stopped her from seeking the truth from others but rather books and countless studies. When Maura usually messed up, which was rare, she never asked what she did wrong. She couldn’t. It wasn’t because she didn’t care. It was because she didn’t know how. She didn’t know if she could handle being told that she was a failure. Still, here she stood in front of Jane for the second time asking what she’d done wrong. She had to have done something.

            “You didn’t do anything.” It was a weak line, Jane knew it. One she usually liked to avoid when being broken up with or being the one doing the breaking up. She hated the “it’s not you, it’s me” excuse and yet she found herself saying it to Maura. “I’m just-,”

            “Don’t.” The honey-blonde’s voice was firm, but still as quiet as a mouse. “I must have done something.”

            In all honesty, she _had_ done something. Jane just couldn’t bring herself to figure it out yet. Maybe it was the gifts. Maybe it was the way Maura said her name. Maybe it was the way Maura made her laugh. Maybe it was the way they could talk about anything all night. Maybe it was because Maura starred in some of her dreams. The lusty ones and fluffy ones.

            She racked her brain for an actual plausible excuse. She came up empty and sighed.

            “I did something, Jane.” Maura sustained. “I must have. Your mother thinks I’m crazy. She thinks I’m overthinking our situation. But, I’m not. Am I?”

            “No.” Suddenly the brunette was aware of their proximity. Maura was chest hairs away from her. She could feel the other woman’s breath on her lips. She could smell the shampoo and soap Maura had used just a few hours ago. She could feel Maura’s heat. All of it. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly she couldn’t think. Suddenly she couldn’t even see. She just knew that she a strong desire, one that she wasn’t quite ready for.

            Jane’s lips were on Maura’s in just seconds. She was supposed to see an assortment of fireworks and stars right? She didn’t. In fact, she just felt awkward. Maura didn’t kiss her back. But she also didn’t make a move to pull away. Jane’s hands were suspended around Maura’s waist, not yet touching her but they’d been expecting something from the kiss. Both women stood there with their lips pressed together for a minute before Jane finally pulled away. She hoped Maura would chalk her blush up to her workout.

            “I’m sorry,” she frowned. “I…I don’t know what that was.”

            “I think you should go.”

            “Maur, come on.” She wasn’t sure why she suddenly didn’t want to go. Why she was suddenly so interested in their relationship again. She wasn’t sure why being kicked out hurt.

            “Please?”

            Jane didn’t say anything. Instead she dragged her feet to the door; she couldn’t hear Maura behind her. Before she closed the door, she glanced to the kitchen one last time. Maura stood with her fingers on her lips, her face shocked to stone. She locked the doorknob as she finally left. 


End file.
